“He was unhappy here, your grace.” Sophia spoke softly but with great conviction.
“The rumors were becoming dangerous,” Dev interjected. “You know this. Read the letter again, Aunt Loretta. Harold has done all of this so that he can live his life in his own way.”
She read it through again and then blew her nose into a handkerchief. “But what of the baby?”
Dev had already decided to tell his aunt everything… well nearly everything. Looking across the room into eyes as blue as the sky, Dev held back nothing. “I love Sophia. I’ve loved her since the day we met. The child she carries is mine.”
Barely able to tug his gaze away from the woman he loved, Dev faced his aunt once again. Would the duchess lash out at him? Would she blame him for the other tragic events of the summer? Would she hate him forever?
No, she merely shook her head sadly. Dev handed her a new handkerchief. “It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?” She smiled wanly at Sophia but did not break down sobbing. This woman hadn’t lived most of her adult life a duchess for nothing. She raised her chin and glanced between the two of them. “But Harold lives? My son is alive?”
“He is,” Dev confirmed.
Over the next thirty minutes or so, Dev answered every question the duchess could think of pertaining to the summer’s events. She was surprisingly agreeable, even acquiescing to the decision they’d made to keep Dudley’s demise from the Scofields.
And then, at last, she had just one question left.
“What do we do now?”
Epilogue
The sun shone bright, exactly six months to the day since Sophia’s first wedding day.
Whereas the dress, the cathedral, the large congregation had made her first wedding seem like every girl’s dream, it was her future husband who’d put the sparkle in her eyes today. It was the groom who caused the bride to glow.
For the bridal gown was a simple lavender muslin, the church a small family chapel, and the congregation made up of only the closest of family and friends.
The groom’s side of the church held the duchess and a handful of her sisters and cousins. On the bride’s side sat Mr. and Mrs. Scofield, Rhoda and her mother and two sisters, Emily and her aunt, and Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Nottingham. Behind them, Gilly sat in a pew and held tightly to Peaches, who had a silk ribbon tied around her neck in honor of the occasion.
No one complained of the bride’s stepbrother’s absence.
Cecily glowed. Emily was her normal studious self, and Rhoda, although obviously pleased for Sophia, seemed unusually quiet.
But nothing could subdue Sophia’s joy that morning.
For she and Dev would finally be wed. And they would be wed without any hovering clouds of deceit. Their future would hold only the promise of love and new life to come.
After confessing all to the duchess, the three of them had discussed what would be best.
Harold would not be returning to London, and so they would continue perpetuating the story of his death for all intents and purposes.
The duchess had cried tears of relief as well, knowing that he lived. Perhaps, someday, she would be able to go to him, to see the son she’d once believed dead. But not for some time. It was difficult for her to give up her hope that he would turn out to be anormalboy, like St. John had been. But she would always love him. Of course, she would always love him!
When Dev had announced his plans to marry Sophia, he had begged the duchess for forgiveness, and she’d granted it to both of them.
And then she’d surprised them.
She’d apologized to Sophia for her part in manipulating the marriage in the first place.
She’d asked Sophia for forgiveness.
After more tears and hugs even. She’d asked Sophia to call her by her given name, Loretta. “But not Lettie, please, dear,” she’d clarified. “Reminds me too much of the days before I married.”
And so, they’d begun planning another wedding.
This time, Sophia had done things her way.
She had refused to be given away. Not by Mr. Scofield, not by Peaches, not by anyone.
